Halo: The Tactics of Survival
by Knifey-Spoony
Summary: Picks up right after Halo 2. It is the story of the Covenant attack on Earth, and the Covenant Civil war, and how all of this will affect Master Chief. Rated PG-13 for mild cursing and violence. Chapter 2 is up!
1. Intro

"New contact sir! Not one of ours!"

"Take it out!"

"This is Spartan 1-1-7, can anyone hear me?"

"Master Chief? 'Mind telling me what you're doing on that ship?"

"Sir! Finishing this fight!"

"What exactly do you have planned? Don't answer that, as long as it can save this planet, do it, just tell me what you need."

"A Longsword... and a helluva good pilot! Sir."

"Understood"

"I want a Longsword dodging anything that comes at it at these coordinates... except for me."

"I'm not receiving anything..." The Admiral stated. He was confused, the Master Chief never acted like this... wait... where the hell was Cortana?!

"Sorry, just send him outside the bow of this ship... send an AI." Master Chief finished, he sighed and shut off the com-link. He was so used to Cortana doing everything for him. Nav. points, grids, schematics, and directions. He heaved another heavy sigh and sank against the wall behind him. He started to finger the scars of his armor, remembering the past Battles on Delta Halo. Pulling those memories back into his thoughts, he remembered all the lives lost on those battles.

He punched the panel next to him. Why? Why was he chosen to fight all these aliens? No other Spartans? Why did they send all these men to their dooms? Just to give him a close shave or a choice between him and another, just one faulty second for him to finish them off. "One distraction can change the course of a battle." He said aloud, not caring if other Covenant heard him. He just wanted to get off this ship. His time came earlier than he wished.

A scrawny figured huddled close to the control panel. He stared curiously at all of the buttons, dials and holograms. They _did_ need the Elites for driving these hulking freighters. A large hand grabbed him by the throat and lifted him high above the powerful figure. Its hairy body and toothy, menacing grin greeted the gawking jackal.

"You hear anything, _Kig-Yar_?" The brute sneered. Sure, they were on his side, but they had no elites to fight with. Others of his kind were getting chances near High Charity, but he had to stay here and made sure the lesser folk of the Covenant didn't do anything stupid. The jackal squawked a reply, which the Brute was unsure of, and dropped him to the ground. He liked to have "fun". "Any sound you hear, you chuck blue-ball, then charge, then fire. Wait for others. No first moves!" The brute kept on growling, he heard a thump a little while ago, and he wanted to know what it was. He thought he smelled something new when they took off.

The jackal rubbed his neck with his bony hands when the brute left. He hated the Jiralhanae, more than the Sangheili. But the elites never wanted them. Always the Lekgolo. Never the Kig-Yar. He heard a sentence uttered from below him, he looked down the whole. The Demon! What was he doing on this ship? He must be killed... or set loose upon the Jiralhanae. The jackal sniggered. He started to charge his plasma pistol, aiming it right down the whole, at the unsuspecting Spartan. But something caught him in the knick of time.

The Brute smashed into the jackal, breaking many bones in his arm. The jackal soared through the hallway, and landed with a skid. He shot back up, and started squawking at the jackal, pistol charging. The Brute had enough of this. He threw a light blue orb at the jackal. The bird-like creature immediately brought his shield up, and threw his plasma pistol at the Brute.

The two objects soared right past each other. The pistol skidded and dropped right into the hole. The grenade bounced off the jackal's shield and flew into the hole as well.

Master Chief looked up to see a green light. Oh no! The Chief thought as he realized that the covenant saw him. He quickly got out of the way of something he new very well. An overcharged plasma pistol shot would decimate his shields and leave him very, very vulnerable. He cautiously moved away from the hole. He started to hear a loud thump and fighting. Then he saw the plasma pistol drop from the ceiling onto the ground.

He quickly ran to catch the Pistol, and he did, just as a Plasma grenade flew right onto the plasma firing mechanism of the pistol. He then thought of a brilliant ploy, a way to win a fight on this ship full of enemies. He charged the Plasma pistol and rapidly aimed it at the hole and let loose the trigger before he knew he would regret it. The plasma beam swelled through the air, propelling the near-exploding plasma grenade. Just as the Master Chief had hoped, the grenade exploded in the corridor above and he was able to feel safe once again.


	2. Chapter 1: Delivery

Author's Notes: Change of Storyline MCMaster Chief UNHuman Fleet/Any UNSC Personnel, ARBArbiter, others soon to come.

ARB

"Why the Ark of course!"

"And where, Oracle, is this Ark?"

"In the development area E-675 O2. The E stands for-"

"If you skip this pointless definition of a coding, will you be able to lead us there?" The Arbiter asked the Oracle. He spoke with precise speech, interestingly enough, English. He used it to slur insults at the Humans during fighting times, but it looks like these times needed allies, not conflicts.

"Of course... but how do you intend to leave this ring? Of course you will want to head to the Ark to activate all of the rings and contain the flood? Or am I mistaken?" The fly orb was testing them.

"Of course, what else could our goal be?" Miranda Keyes asked. She new a machine could be easily manipulated. "We will find a ship, and you will tell us how to get to the Ark."

"What are you doing Human?! You wish to activate the rings just after you helped disable one? I should have dealt with you the way any Human should be!" The Arbiter roared. How could the Human betray him? How?

He did not care to find the answer to his question, and drew his Plasma sword from a dead Elite underneath him. This fueled the fire burning in the Elite's soul for so long. He quickly activated the handle, and long glowing beams shot out from either end to form a 3-foot long, and deadly sword.

"Hold it big guy!" Sergeant Johnson yelled from across the room, holding a Particle beam rifle, aimed at the Elites head, ready to lead the target for a precise kill. "You will follow what that lady says! Or else your brains will be on that wall next to you!"

The Arbiter paused to consider his choices, slay the female, destroy the Oracle and get killed in the process or control his rage and pride and see that the female did not betray him? The Elite quickly sheathed his sword and squelched his pride. Sacrifice, another Tactic of Survival. One many Elites, thanks to the Master Chief, did not know well.

MC

A figure leaped into the hallway, out of the hole. The figure's arms landed outside the hole in the floor, keeping the body in the air. The figure was Master Chief. He was the proclaimed "Savoir of the War" now, no more than baggage on an Alien Spaceship, hoping to destroy his home planet.

The Master Chief quickly surveyed his surroundings as he held the plasma pistol to his eye level. A dead Brute and a dead Jackal? The Master Chief crouched to better asses the Brute. He skillfully searched for a weapon, but sighed when he found none.

"Perfect." The Spartan whispered allowed. He would not give away his position twice. The Master Chief chuckled to himself. Another Tactic of Survival. How could he forget. _Do not give the advantage of surprise away, it may be the only advantage... that you can find_. He continued searching the Brute, but soon became nauseated by the smell and the sticky blood around him. Master Chief's boots squished with the sticky blood left behind from the explosion he caused.

He looked behind him to see a long hallway with a control panel at the end of a wall, and forward to see a door. It was like many he had seen before, triangular shaped, and black plated. He walked up to it, and instantly saw mechanisms buzz throughout the door, quickly showing a path to a large room. It was filled with weapons. Lots and lots of weapons.

He walked over to the piled filled room. Brute shots, plasma pistols, Brute plasma rifles, and particle beam rifles. He walked over to see empty shotguns. Many with Human blood on their hands. The Chief shuddered as he picked up a shotgun. Probably one of the marines of the _In Amber Clad_. He strapped the empty gun onto his back and took a Brute shot and loaded it with grenades. He carefully put the volatile strands of explosive balls into the cramped storage area, knowing that any bump might cause a chain reaction and many pieces of shrapnel in his midsection.

When he finally finished loading the heavy weapon, he walked back though the door. He walked to the end of the hall and began to study the control panel. Hmm. The Master Chief thought to himself. He pressed one of the buttons emanating from the consol. He was immediately rushed with a whirlwind of images and found himself looking at a cross-section of the whole ship. He quickly scanned the ship. Where he was, escape routes and how to deactivate the ship.

He saw three things that interested him. One was the Prophet of Truth, who was currently residing on the ship. The second was the amount of Brutes, Jackals and Drones cramped in the small rooms. They were ready to land on Earth. This could not happen. And the third, that there was a way to blow up the ship and get himself to safety. He started to make his preparations.

UN

The Admiral fervently relayed the commands and coordinates into the Virscan device. This device was new and imprinted on all the ships. It allowed every person on board to view public or private information on any monitor posted throughout the ship. "Beowulf!" Admiral McHale quietly said to a pedestal to his left. As the last syllable was uttered a hologram flickered to life on the pedestal, showing the outline of a strong, muscular medieval Anglo-Saxon warrior, called Beowulf by Admiral McHale.

"Yes Admiral?" The AI questioned. McHale chuckled. He needed to have someone add an accent to the AI's vocal components. "You find something... funny?"

"No, no, it's fine Beowulf. Get me Nave, and tell him to get to his ship and fire her up! Tell him to load that thing up with Special Package 4-364 in an ammo pod and load that into a missile pod, load Shiva-tipped nukes into the other. Make sure it can fly! And tell him to lock those coordinates in the Virscan. Let's set the welcome wagon for Master Chief!"

"Uhh-RAH!" Beowulf exclaimed. The Admiral looked curiously at his A.I. "I mean on, it Sir!"

Captain Morgan Nave frantically related all his commands to Kain, his A.I. His skillful hands from years of piloting fast ships came to his aid in checking all the information McHale gave him. "Alright men!" Nave said in a low, brooding voice. "Halo-Killer is in need of assistance, and we're gonna give it to him! I'm piloting _Runefang_, Ensign Ryon, and Lieutenant Rieher, take _Venomwing _and _Zealous Heretic_ and follow my lead. We're to fill some tough orders. Load Shivas into your missile pods, ill take the special package. This is gonna officially be the Greatsword and Falchion Model test runs, so any bugs, let me know."

"Ryon and Rieher, fuel up, and you have the authorization to use Shiva's without collateral damage. Understood? Good. Same for you Nave! I know you can hear me. Alright, crews, launch out of N-3 Bay. It's the nearest. Good luck boys." Captain Hurd said from the Flight Command Center on the ship. She was the one who had to make sure that these men stayed sane.

Morgan Nave sprinted to the Level 4 clearance packaging area. He never knew what exactly was in Level 4. It was always a mystery to him. Level 1 was weapons and ammunition, Level 2 was information and history and Level 3 was undoubtably hidden files, most of which were of the Spartan projects. But Level 4 he never heard of. When he finally got to the designated pick up area. He said "Level 4". The platform he was on shot upward and he was at the Level 4 packaging center. When he opened the door, it was all white, only the gray of the ship's interiors behind him. "Umm... 364?" Morgan read off of his memory. A white box appeared out of the white. TOP SECURITY it said on it, Nave decided it would be best if he didn't open this one. That was for the Master Chief to do.

"Master Chief... your shipment is ready to be delivered, how should I get this to you?" A rough, dark voice eminated from his com-link.

"Identify yourself soldier. And tell me how the hell you opened my com link!" Master Chief replied.

"I am Captain Morgan Nave of the Greatsword Fighter _Runefang_, and I opened your com-link by hacking your communications grid and opening a new link, restarting the system. Don't worry its secure." Morgan explained.

"Are you my Guardian Angel Captain Nave?" Master Chief sarcastically asked.

"More or less, I'm you're only way offa that ship, so what I say goes. And don't worry, I am that _helluva good pilot_ you asked for. Like I said, I got a present for you, how do you want it?"

"What are my options?" Master Chief asked.

"Well, you could one, open the ship the way you got through, and I'll launch it through. Or you can stand back, ill punch a hole in the wall and shoot it through."

"Can you home that thing Soldier?"

"Master Chief, what do you think?"

"Alright, shoot through it and have it go through these coordinates. Uploading now..." Master Chief commanded. He furiously pushed the buttons, figuring out the complex series of keystrokes and sending the message he wanted.

A Kig-Yar snapped to attention. Something was wrong. One of the networking stations was activated and starting to send information to a signal outside! How could a fellow Kig-Yar do this? The Jackal squawked at a near by Brute.

"You see problem Kig-Yar?" The Brute stupidly questioned. He uttered a low growl and smacked the Jackal hard across the side of the face, sending him flying across the room, landing with a loud thump. "PROPHET! WE HAVE PROBLEM!" the Brute roared.

A door opened behind him, and out floated the frail, yet commanding form of the Prophet of Truth. "What is wrong my honorable Brute Guard?" The Prophet asked in a dignity filled question. He was not at all worried, Tartarus would surely succeed and so would they. They would kill the Humans and then find the Ark. It was all so perfect.

The Brute shook his head and limbs in frustration as he tried to locate the source of the problem in their main-frame. He frantically worked to isolate the signal... in time. "We are being attacked!" The Brute screeched. He clearly could see a form of a pod crash through their armor on the lower areas. The hologram he was viewing quickly changed its viewing area to show the pod rocket upward, open and a hand picked something out of it. The Demon.

The Prophet gasped and chocked on fear. How? How could The Demon still be alive, and how could he board their holy ship? Filthy Elites! More problems they caused. If there wasn't a mutiny happening in their backyard, they could've seen this coming! How dare they! This is truly the mark of heresy. He would have all the Elites scorched by the Mark of Shame and publicly hung by their entrails!

"You, Brute! Cut off all the lower levels. I want my ship ready for slip-space and ready to depart from the midsection! After that is accomplished, seal off the lower levels and detach it from the rest of the ship! Get to work!"


End file.
